


The light that blinds my eyes

by aryastark_valarmorghulis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Comedy, Demisexual Sirius Black, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied happy sex, M/M, Oblivious Remus Lupin, POV Remus Lupin, Pining Sirius Black, Post-Hogwarts, Romantic Comedy, sexually experienced Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryastark_valarmorghulis/pseuds/aryastark_valarmorghulis
Summary: Sirius is in love. Remus is too, he just doesn't know it yet.In which Sirius is demi and pines a lot, Remus is oblivious, and they should move together as soon as possible.





	1. And when I sleep on your couch I feel very safe

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [everyoneinspaceisgay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyoneinspaceisgay/pseuds/everyoneinspaceisgay) and [shadow_prince](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_prince/pseuds/shadow_prince) for the wonderful Beta work and the precious advice. As always, thanks to [shessocold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold) for the constant encouragement and, last but absolutely not least, thanks to Miki, who not only inspired this story with one of her wonderful fics, but also made me fall in love with Remus/Sirius so many years ago.  
The story is complete and the second part will be posted on Tuesday.  


Up until now, the highlights of Remus’ less than exciting post-Hogwarts life were the frequent – but not nearly frequent enough, if you ask him – get together nights with his friends.

On September first, he spends the day unloading cases of apples, oranges and plums in the little grocery store he works at, a nostalgic tug around his belly button reminding him every few minutes of the end of an era. The time of sharing a dorm with his friends for nine out of twelve months and of planning the next full moon adventure was over. All the hard work put in earning eleven N.E.W.T.S didn’t help at all with his job prospects, not when his name was neatly written in the Werewolves Registry, along with a tracking number and his signature on a paper that authorized the Ministry to disclose his _ Dark Creature Status _to any employer who asked.

Apparently, after the arrest of an alleged terrorist warlock and his so-called Death-Eater cronies, the Minister had taken a zero-tolerance policy for anything even remotely connected to dark magic, and werewolves were pretty high on the list of people to monitor.

So for Remus, this whole turning of age and being an adult business has been pretty rotten so far, except for the time spent with his friends – and as soon as the reality of growing up had sunk in, going out together had become even more important. 

Remus, who had been secretly worried they might have drifted apart after school, was always happy and more than willing to hang out, even after a long day on his feet spent unloading boxes, stocking tins on the display rack and sticking prices to items.

They meet up at least once a week sometimes at James and Lily’s cottage, drinking wine and eating takeaway in the porch, enjoying the light summer breeze and playing with the occasional Gnome poking out of the hawthorn bushes; other times they’re cramped in the overheated attic above Mrs Pettigrew’s flat in Manchester, nursing beers on the floor and sweating no matter the Cooling Charms they constantly cast.

Tonight it’s Sirius’s flat in London’s turn, a place Remus loves because it’s stuffed full with embarrassing pictures of James and Peter, excellent records and high-quality alcohol – and yet crossing that threshold always saddens him with a peculiar mix of envy and regret, since Sirius keeps offering to let him move into the guest room, even insisting he wouldn’t need to pay rent. 

Remus has refused so far, half out of pride and half out of fear they would drive each other mad without James, but his resolve is slowly beginning to waver. The Welsh countryside is lonely without his mum, his dad is rarely home and there are only so many walks in the woods he can take before it becomes melancholic rather than soothing.

As soon as the clock strikes six p.m., Remus hurries to mop the floors and tidy up the tiny aisles under the hawk-like gaze of Mrs Driscoll, whose pince-nez seemed lowered towards a crochet magazine but Remus could feel her stare like a prickly itch at the back of his neck, supervising his every move. He’s still on a probationary period, as she makes sure to remind him every morning, so who even knows how she will react when, in two weeks, he’ll ring her fake coughing in the receiver to ask for sick leave.

For now, Remus bids her a polite good evening and all but rushes home to shower and change, avoiding a couple of kids playing soccer in the street and crossing the sleepy town square to speed past the twin rows of cypresses. His worn canvas shoes raise puffs of white dust behind him, but he wants to avoid Sirius’ usual snide remarks along the lines of _ you wouldn’t be late if you lived here. _

After changing into a clean shirt and a pair of almost holes-free jeans, he Floos Sirius to discover he’s the first to arrive.

“Moony! You’re early! Have you been sacked or did you finally quit?”

Remus brushes the soot out of his trousers. “Neither.”

“Too bad.” Remus crosses the – admittedly airy and well-lit – living room to shoo Sirius’ legs from the sofa so he can sit, too. Sirius lets him and then places his Argyle-socked feet on Remus’ lap, his dark robes dangling on the floor.

“Did you cast a Cooling Charm on the flat just so you could wear this set of robes?” he jokes. They look new, the fabric sturdy and lined with embroidered runes.

Sirius pokes at him by flexing his big toe. “I might have” he admits, sticking his tongue out at him.

Shortly after, James and Lily knock at the door – they both work in Diagon Alley, not at all far from Soho – and Dorcas and Marlene stumble out of the fireplace, bumping into each other and pretending to be exasperated, fooling exactly no-one. 

Alice, Mary, and Emmeline arrive together with three six-packs in their arms, Frank brings pie, and Peter is the last one to come, blathering excuses about his boss at the Pest Advisory Bureau being an _utter arse_.

They order pizza – a nice change from their usual curries or fish and chips – Sirius brings out his fancy French red wine, and they spend a carefree evening without dealing with real adults, chatting and gossiping and stuffing themselves with food like the kids they still are. 

It’s almost like being in the Great Hall again, almost but not quite, because everyone’s got their life now, and thus new stories and anecdotes to tell the others – and if Remus’ tales are a tad less interesting, he makes up with his storyteller abilities, painting his boring life in Skenfrith like an adventure in the countryside.

After Sirius breaks out the Firewhisky and Emmeline rolls a couple of joints to exchange, everyone is just on the right side of tipsy and high to divert the conversation towards sex. Who slept with whom, who their old classmates are shagging at the moment – rumours of an intradepartmental affair between Adrian Purcell and Zelda Kirschner are flying high in the Auror Training program – who would love to try what, who’s very good at something (apparently Caradoc Dearborn excels at oral regardless of the partner’s sex, according to both Mary and Remus.)

Remus keeps sneaking glances at Sirius, always a bit worried that Sirius might be bored or, even worse, uncomfortable, when the topic veers into explicit territory. Earlier in the summer, only the four of them out for a pint at the Leaky, Peter started to share details about his first time, and Sirius, who had always been ready to flirt and trade dirty jokes, bluntly admitted he never did “_ much _” except for snogging Lyra Shafiq and declared himself pretty immune to the whole sex frenzy. 

James, predictably, wasn’t surprised in the slightest, but Remus and Peter were: Sirius is incredibly handsome, extroverted, not to mention he always has lots of admirers. Even if he had always been reserved and tight-lipped about it, Remus had assumed he had experimented at school as they all did.

But of course Remus understood and promptly smiled and nodded when James said: _ “It’s alright, mate, you do what you want and not what you think society expects from you or some similar shite.” _

Peter though, seemed to believe it would be magnanimous to always remark who was single and available, men or women, and direct meaningful glances to Sirius. 

James’ good heart told Remus that Pete thinks he’s _ helping_, albeit in his clumsy, unsubtle way, but Remus secretly believes that this is the first thing – and probably last – Peter managed to achieve before Sirius, and after seven years of more or less condescending remarks, he’s indulging himself in rubbing it in Sirius’ face.

Frankly, it seems all pretty useless, since it’s clear that Sirius doesn’t consider having sex to be an achievement in the slightest, and besides, if he wanted to, he surely wouldn’t need any help.

This means Remus is always on the fence when the sex-slash-relationship topic monopolises the conversation, since Sirius is growing more and more pissed off by Peter’s comments, and often he withdraws to have a cigarette outside or browse the books on the shelves and the records of whoever's house they’re in.

Tonight though, Peter’s third or fourth hand rumour that Sefyra Fowles of the Obliviators Squad is single again and apparently ready to commit, sanctions the end of the night. After Sirius leaves the table to broodingly blow smoke shapes from the tip of his wand the conversation and the mood starts to languish, and one by one all the guests Floo home. Sirius is always the heart of the party when he’s in a cheery mood, but he also holds the power to end one when he’s sullen and starts to sulk.

As soon as Remus hints at queuing behind Marlene and Dorcas to grab a pinch of Floo powder, he senses Sirius’ gaze at the back of his neck, an instinctive prickle that comes with seven years of sharing a dorm and, to be honest, a life, so he dawdles, bending to lace up his shoes, until James is the last one to disappear in with a gust of green flames and ashes.

“Aren’t you staying, Moony?” Sirius asks.

Remus is fully aware that it’s all a ploy so that Sirius can go on with his crusade of convincing him to move in, but he caves immediately. It’s all part of an unspoken agreement: Sirius always asks him to stay the night in the guest-room after their evening get-togethers, and Remus always accepts. 

The official reason is that he helps him tidy up the apartment, but the truth is that he likes to stay in the flat, in the city, with Sirius, instead of returning to his teenage bedroom, full of old stuffed animals and picture books he never brings himself to throw away.

Tonight Remus cleans by himself, waving his wand to send all the dirty dishes, glasses and cutlery to wash at the sink and then collecting napkins and empty bottles to be thrown away in the rubbish bin. After a Scourgify to clean the floor, he registers that the third song of _ Unknown Pleasures _side B is already playing and Sirius is still stubbornly glued to the sofa, twirling his wand so a tremendously realistic smoke Kneazle turns into an equally impressive toad.

“Pads, I think you’re getting too old to pout,” Remus jokes, but it’s meant to be a light reminder that if Sirius wants to talk or vent, he can always find a friendly ear in him.

Sirius scowls and the toad turns into a majestic Hippogryph. 

“Is it so _bloody _hard to avoid pointing out that I’m not interested in sex, like I’m this exotic creature in a zoo? By now everyone must know I’m still a virgin, not that I fucking give a shit what _people _think, but it shouldn’t _fucking _matter. And I get it, finally something Wormtail beat me at, congratulations to his fragile ego, except I don’t even care about shagging, but...”

Remus has all the intention of letting him rant freely, but Sirius trails off and it’s not until _Interzone _turns into _ I Remember Nothing _that it occurs to him that maybe he should add something to prompt him.

“Pads, it doesn’t matter, I promise-” he starts, with all the intentions of reassuring him, but Sirius scoffs and shakes his head, the shape of a fully formed Chimaera twitching its tail mid-air and then vanishing into a wisp of white smoke.

“I don’t want to shag someone only because I’m supposed to, or worse, to make Peter happy,” Sirius says. “I want to do whatever the fuck I want without feeling like something went wrong with me or whatev-.”

“Nothing is wrong! And you should do only what makes you happy!” Remus almost yells, then joins him to the sofa. Like before, Sirius lifts his ankles only to rest his feet over Remus’ thighs – the fleeting thought of how cosy it already is, and maybe it wouldn’t be such a disaster to be room-mates, floats through Remus’ mind. He pats Sirius’ knee, and when Sirius looks up at him, the corners of his lips tug upwards a little – a small victory, to pull him out a bad mood.

“Fucking a stranger just to try it or so that I can tick it off a list wouldn’t make me happy,” Sirius adds, after a while. His handsome face is pensive, a line creasing his brow, and he scratches his stubble with the tip of his wand – if only his boss Moody could see him. “It wouldn’t make me unhappy either, I think. I just can’t bring myself to care.”

Remus nods. “And that’s perfectly alright,” he says, smiling. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

He can’t say he shares Sirius’ preferences: a lot of nights he lies to his dad telling him he’s going to see Sirius or James and instead he Apparates to London and goes to Muggle bars trying to pick up girls or boys. In one case of no luck, Remus had even tried cruising near Hyde Park in the dead hours of the night. But he understands people are not meant to be wired in the same way, and Sirius’ way of being is just as valid as his. Honestly, he’s just glad Sirius trusts him enough to open up with him. After that time at the Leaky, they never approached the discussion again – Remus prides himself to be discreet and he was sure that Sirius had James to confide with whenever he felt the need.

A new ribbon of smoke blossoms from his wand, this time moulding into a unicorn, and Sirius starts to talk again, voice low and almost careful – as much as Sirius can be careful.

“It’s not that I don’t see when someone’s hot. Mary is beautiful, Caradoc’s fit – I’m not blind. _ But being able to see they’re hot doesn’t mean I want sex with them." _

Remus’ eyes widen at the surprise of the throwaway information that Sirius likes boys, too, just like himself, but he tries to nod and quickly school his expression back to neutral and reassuring, rather than startled. If he had known, though…

Even if Sirius noticed his gaping moment, he goes on smoothly, thank Merlin.

“I don’t _ fancy _ them, we’re not that close...” Sirius winces and wrinkles his nose in a rather endearing grimace, like words are failing him. “Truth is, I’d really like to try sex, but I need to get closer first, to know someone deeply before… _ wanting _them. If it even makes sense.”

Sirius blinks up at him and it tugs at Remus’ heartstrings, to spot a hint of insecurity in his grey eyes: Sirius is always so confident, the one who boosts Remus’ morale during his all too frequent self-deprecating moments.

“Makes perfect sense,” he replies with a smile, wishing to be half as good as Sirius is at offering encouraging words. “You’ll find someone, I promise you – who wouldn’t want to be close and get to know you?”

Sirius smiles sweetly but there’s a shadow of sadness in the curl of his lips like he doesn’t fully believe it, and Remus hopes he hasn’t spoken out of turn, desperately wants Sirius to understand he truly _means _what he said. Yes, Sirius doesn’t have the easiest temper, he can be brash and impulsive and prone to anger, but once you dig deeper, he’s also caring and trustworthy – not to mention he’s a brilliant wizard with a bright Auror career ahead of him, and on top of all this, he’s also gorgeous.

“I’m not just saying it, you know?” Remus tells him.

Sirius hums, twirling his wand between his hands, the unicorn a mere cloud of smoke by now. “What about you?” he asks.

Remus shrugs. “What do you want to know?” He’s not exactly tight-lipped with his friends but he usually spills a few dirty details when they’re drunk and that’s about it, not that there’s a lot to tell about his meaningless one night stands.

“Was Caradoc really that good?” Sirius grins.

Remus laughs. Caradoc is the only wizard he’s ever had sex with – mutual blow-jobs during their graduation party at James’ – since the scars from the bite are easier to explain to Muggles. _ A wild animal when I was little_, he usually says, and that’s not even a lie.

“No, I was just curious if, if you’re only looking for sex,” Sirius goes on, eyes focused on the white wisps swirling like mist mid-air, “since you’ve never dated anyone.”

Remus sighs. His lycanthropy de facto prevents him from dating: a lot of wizards and witches are afraid or disgusted, and even if they weren’t, he wouldn’t want to subject them to his monthly affliction. As for Muggles, a base of lies doesn’t seem a solid foundation for a relationship. But of course, he can’t tell all this to Sirius. Firstly because he’d yell at him for being a self-loathing wanker, and secondly because he doesn’t want to make this conversation all about himself, not when Sirius is trusting him with very personal confidences.

So he says the truth, as simple as it is. “No, I’d like to date, actually.”

Sirius nods, and then a cosy silence stretches between them, the record player by now diffusing only static noise. Remus leans back to the backrest and yawns, smiling the sweetest smile when a smoky Padfoot appears, and next to him a werewolf. A cuddly werewolf, apparently, since the nebulous Moony curls next to Padfoot, their snouts butting playfully. He doubts Moony has ever been so tame, but it’s a comforting picture, if a bit sad: another reminder that they’ve grown up, and now every full moon means bleak nights caged in the Ministry basement, and humiliating mornings of waking up naked, shivering, and hurt under the unforgiving gaze of the lowest ranking members of the Werewolf Capture Unit. It’s a tender comfort, though, that he’s not the only one who misses dearly their escapades in the Forbidden Forest.

After a while, Sirius stretches his long legs and arms. “Bed?” he yawns.

“Bed,” Remus nods.

Sirius, as always, leaves his bedroom door wide open, and when Remus comes out of the loo, he stops at the threshold. Sirius is already under the covers but the bedside lamp is still on, the soft buttery light softening his sharp-edged face, and even if Remus saw him in laying in bed for years, somehow this seems different in a way he can’t quite place.

“Night, Pads,” he says, and after a beat he adds: “You know you can come find me when I close the shop whenever you want, if you’d like to talk or just – hang out, all right?” It isn’t as easy as when all he had to do was unfold the map and look him up – now they have to work to remain as close as they were, but there’s nothing Remus wouldn’t do to preserve their precious friendship.

Sirius smiles and sits up, sheets pooling at his waist, hair long and messy on his shoulders. “I’ll visit soon, Moony,” he promises, and then his mouth curves in a knowing smile. “Or you could move here.”

Remus laughs to hide the undeniable truth that, in this very moment, he really wouldn’t mind accepting the offer.


	2. It's been four hours now since I've wandered through your place

The next afternoon a deep vroom loudly breaks the torpid late afternoon silence in Skenfrith.

Remus, still mopping the floor, steals a glance through the shop window and tries to hurry up now that Mrs. Driscoll is busy craning her neck to take a good look.

When he goes outside, he finds Sirius eating an ice-cream cone next to his bike, the sleek black paint and silver wheels glittering in the warm September sunset while he smiles at a bunch of little kids crowding around him curiously, a curly haired girl poking at the handlebars under his indulgent gaze.

Sirius grins as soon as he spots him. “Need a ride home?”

Remus pretends to be annoyed, even if he secretly loves to ride on Sirius’ bike – even more when they fly. 

“Can I say no?” he huffs, concealing a smile.

“No,” Sirius replies, fishing out a second helmet from the case.

Remus climbs on the seat and hangs on tight with his arms around Sirius’ waist, fisting the worn leather of his jacket, chest flush against his back – he still hasn’t figured out where to put his feet.

He loves the freedom rush of seeing a green blur of trees as they speed up, the thrill when they bend slightly to curve, the cool air under his clothes, so much that he shuts his eyes and lets the wind slide the fatigue of the workday off his shoulders, trusting Sirius to drive them safely home.

It’s a regrettably short ride and soon enough they’re inside the Lupins’ small but cosy cottage, the cluttered living room pleasantly cool and shady.

Sirius tosses his jacket on one of the mismatched chairs and plops on the sofa, spreading his long legs with the easy comfort of someone who’s been hanging out in this house since he was a kid. “Your dad?”

Remus grabs the wand from his jeans pockets, where it was hidden with a Concealment Charm, to spell the wireless alive, the loud cries of Mick Jones asking if he should stay or go filling the room.

“Oh, in Glasgow for a big Doxy infestation.”

“Still haven’t talked to him, I reckon.”

Remus busies himself grabbing and opening the only beer left in the fridge to avoid both Sirius’ grey-steel gaze and the topic. After school, he harboured the faint hope that his dad might ask him to help with his freelance work of Magical Creatures disinfestation, but Lyall had looked at his N.E.W.T.S with pride, assured him he could remain at home as long as he wanted and patted him on the back when he learned of the job at Mrs. Driscoll’s. 

As Sirius sharply pointed out several times, Remus had never asked either. The truth is he doesn’t want to burden his dad with his unwanted presence and anyway, he has never been good at fighting for what he wants.

“I might when he gets back.” Remus tries to wriggle away from the topic and, surprisingly with how relentless Sirius can be, this time it works.

“Good,” Sirius takes a pull of his beer and then hands it back to Remus, who settles on the armchair next to him. “So, I was kind of curious after last night – have you had lots of sex?”

Remus almost chokes on his beer, barely managing to swallow a sip without snorting it from his nose.

“If you’re not uncomfortable with telling me,” Sirius adds, quickly.

“Er, it’s alright,” Remus says, and even if he’s kind of puzzled by this sudden interest in his sex life, he doesn’t feel embarrassed with Sirius: he knows him so well and he feels known in return, so it's pretty safe to share intimate details with him. “Well, er – I’m not sure how much sex you consider a lot, but I doubt I’ve had _lots, _” he jokes.

“And did you always like it?” Sirius asks again.

Remus takes a long chug of his beer, almost downing the bottle, to buy some time to think it through. This one is a loaded question. “Well… it’s never the same for me. Sometimes it was better than others, other times it was – well, quick or kind of forgettable, but I never disliked it so far?”

Sirius hums, lacing his hands under his chin, elbows on the armrest, his brow wistfully furrowed, and Remus feels suddenly more confused than ever, partly because Sirius had never manifested such an interest in his sexual preferences, partly because he believes himself to be pretty inadequate to dispense advice, if that’s what Sirius is looking for. “But it’s different for everyone, I think – and it’s not like I’m this big expert, anyway,” he adds.

Sirius snorts. “Yes, that’s Wormtail nowadays, isn’t it?”

They both chuckle and the conversation seems to focus on cooking spells during their poor attempts at dinner – passable baked chicken breasts and garlic roasted potatoes – Sirius even starts to sing along Elton John when the wireless plays _ Don’t go breaking my heart _and Remus doesn’t dwell on it until Sirius asks again.

“Can I ask about more stuff? I’m just,” he shrugs. “Curious.”

It might be a tad embarrassing if it wasn’t one of his best friends asking, but Sirius is Sirius so Remus nods.

“What exactly did you _ do _ with that girl you met at the grocery store?”

“Georgia.” Remus chews on his potatoes and tries to employ the least crass language he can to describe a quickie. “We, um. Oral and fingers.”

“Nice,” Sirius replied, stuffing himself full with chicken and bread, showing an impressive nonchalance that Remus is starting to envy, since his cheeks are beginning to feel hot. “So you’ve never had intercourse with a girl?”

At this, Remus does choke on water, coughing a little, because Merlin, for someone who’s not into sex, for sure Sirius asks a lot of in-depth questions.

Sirius pats him on the back. “Feel free to tell me to bugger off, Moony, if you don’t feel like answering,” he smiles and pours him some more water.

Remus is pretty sure his whole face is turning an ugly shade of red, but he admits it. “No, I did actually, just once, er, last week – her name was Rose, and we were in her car… outside of a London Muggle bar.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been silent about this one,” he seems almost… impressed? “I knew you’ve been holding back, unlike someone _ else _ who doesn’t spare us any detail.”

Peter, of course, but Remus doesn’t want to think about Wormtail’s graphic tales – he feels a bit under scrutiny, but he’s also starting to get almost… frustrated about all this sex talk. Sirius seems to take the hunch and when they clear the table, he chatters about today’s training in the Light and Shadow Room, and how Moody never spares a praising word for him and Prongs, but really, _ we’re his favourites. _

After, they step outside to smoke, sitting on the single stone step that divides the cottage from the garden. Sirius puts two cigarettes in his mouth and lights them both, pinching one between his fingers only to place it directly between Remus’ parted lips, a rather affectionate gesture, but not odd. 

Sirius has always been warm with him – he really is sweet, Remus thinks, looking at him sideways blowing a puff of smoke, his classical profile turned upwards to the starry sky. Any girl or boy would be lucky to love him, he almost wants to say, referring to yesterday’s conversation, but he’s too afraid of striking a nerve.

They smoke in silence for a while, gazing at the dark garden ahead, little shapes of glowing Fairies twinkling here and there in between the shrubs. It’s Sirius who breaks the silence first, as usual.

“So can I ask one more question before you tell me to sod off.”

Remus smiles and bumps shoulders with him. “Alright, but then I get to ask one question myself,” he replies.

Sirius laughs softly. “Sure, but I won’t have anything interesting to tell, unlike _ you_, all stealthy and sly under that innocuous-”

Remus groans and swats him lightly on the arm, but they’re both laughing, and if Sirius really wants to know dirty stuff, well, it’s _ Sirius: _there’s pretty much nothing Remus wouldn’t tell him.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so, it’s two questions, actually,” Sirius stubs his cigarette on the ground and Vanishes it with a wandless wave. “One, if you ever had anal, and two, if you’ve ever been, you know, in love.”

Remus splutters a laugh and hisses, the fag butt stinging his fingertips for a second, before Sirius Vanishes it, not even remotely losing his cool.

“And the two things are related… how?” Remus cackles.

Sirius rolls his eyes and shoves him playfully with an elbow. “They’re not, you big tosser.”

“Well, yes,” Remus answers, “and um, no?” Surprisingly enough, it’s the last admission that causes him to look away. With a jab of inexplicable embarrassment, he finds he can’t stare back at Sirius observing him, and he can’t exactly explain why.

Silence again for a while, until Sirius exhales a loud sigh and stretches his neck and shoulders, long hair falling to obscure his face. “Maybe the next time you go out to pull in your secret Muggle clubs I could go with you?”

At that Remus does look up at him, and the surprise must be clearly written on his face, because Sirius draws in a breath, like he’s bracing himself for a discussion. 

“But- I thought you weren’t interested in hooking-up?”

“Well, I’m not,” Sirius shrugs and scratches the back of his neck, showing a hint of awkwardness for the first time. “But...”

Remus bites the inside of his cheeks, slowly gathering what he hopes are the right words in his mind before speaking them, slowly, carefully. “Pads, I – I’m me and you’re you and… it’s alright if we don’t like the same stuff-”

“We really don’t, do we,” Sirius cuts him off, but his rough voice is tinged with an unmistakable streak of bitterness and his lips curve in a sour smile.

Remus is quite at loss by this sudden mood change, but he can’t bear to see Sirius sad, so he reaches out to place his hand on Sirius’ wrist. “Hey. Did I say something stupid?”

Sirius fixes him with that intense stare of his that always swirls some unnamed feeling in Remus’ guts. “You still have your question,” is his quiet, non sequitur answer.

Remus’ throat turns dry, his hand on Sirius’ wrist starts to sweat for no reason, so he just voices the first words that surface into his mind. “Have you? Ever been in love?”

Sirius nods. 

Crickets chirp gleefully all around them. It hits Remus like a Stunning spell full in the chest, like the Revealing Charm of a picture that has always been under his oblivious nose but only now its details are slowly unfolding and assembling themselves in a clearer mosaic. 

Yesterday night Sirius confided him that he likes boys too and that he’s never had sex because he’s not interested unless there’s already a deep friendship involved... but if he is in love then it’s not reciprocated, so... 

It must be James he’s in love with.

Remus sighs, clutches Sirius’ wrist and sadness overcomes him like a hook just punctured his heart to drag it out of his chest and up in his throat. “So you’re,” he swallows, “in love with James?”

Sirius stares at him. “For Merlin’s fucking sake.” He _scoffs _mere inches from Remus’ nose. “You’re too clever to be so daft.”

And then Sirius kisses him on the mouth, the garden, the porch, the entire world twirling madly for a glorious moment until Remus pulls back. His hand is still holding Sirius’ wrist and stares, mesmerized, at the lips that he just _kissed, _and it was so good and all he wants is to kiss him again – but he stills. It can’t be him. Can it?

Sirius seems to sense his doubts and he shrinks away, suddenly interested in the Fairy lights. “I know you don’t – it’s alright, I’ll always be your friend, Moo-”

“But _you do, _” Remus gasps. There’s something crucial he’s been missing, and his heart chirping more loudly than the cicadas in the garden tells him it’s monumentally huge.

“Well, yes. It’s embarrassing for how long – as if I haven’t embarrassed myself enough tonight,” Sirius scrapes his shoes against the grass, eyes downcast, a regretful look that Remus longs to wipe away. “And whenever I pictured myself having sex, it was only with you.”

Remus really needs to say something comforting, anything at this point, because as much as Sirius has always been straightforward it must have taken a lot of guts to show himself so vulnerable. 

But what to say, when his own mind is besieged with worry and doubts? He never thought about Sirius as more than a friend except for a brief moment when they were still kids and he found out he fancied boys, too. Sirius is funny and brilliant and kind, yes, but he’s… his dear friend Padfoot – and also handsome and rich and posh and Pureblood, his mind supplies. Remus probably never even let himself consider him that way, fully convinced that Sirius would be unattainable, a guaranteed heartbreak. So deep into his low self-esteem delusions, he has failed to notice Sirius had feelings for him, and the surprise of finding out makes him so fuzzy and delighted inside.

“Look, I’m going home, just don’t think too much ab-”

Remus scrambles to his feet and grabs Sirius by the elbows. “No, no, don’t go, just...” Both stumble a little before Sirius steers them, but his eyes are still nowhere near Remus’ face. 

“But why did you never say anything?” Remus whines, trying to sort the whirlwind of emotions raising in his stomach. Flattery, of course, but also something much, much more deep and powerful.

“Maybe because I _ knew _ it wouldn’t be mutual?” Sirius retorts sharply, the hurt so clear in his voice that Remus protests loudly before he can even think.

“That’s not even true, I-” he’s talking without even thinking, not that his usual heavy pondering helped him very much in this whole thing. All he knows is that he’d like to kiss Sirius again and it doesn’t scare him in the slightest knowing that Sirius loves him – on the contrary, it almost seems... natural. There’s already such a deep friendship between them, so much fondness and familiarity that _of course _he loves Sirius. How could he not love him?

“Moony, I know you, and please, don’t do things out of pity,” Sirius says.

“I wouldn’t! That’s really not it,” Remus replies, and for lack of better words he throws his arm around him and kisses him again. He can’t find any good reason why it should be a bad idea to hold Sirius in his arms and be held in return, two bright spots in the darkness of night, and moments later they’re kissing for real, deep and wet and sweet, and it’s so right, so good that it obliterates anything else, reducing Remus’ world to Sirius and only Sirius.

Gasping for air, Remus rubs their noses together – kissing Sirius seems something that was always meant to be, and he’s been the only one blind to the inevitability of it.

“Not that I’m complaining, but really…?” Sirius laughs a little, and he looks just like Remus feels: stunned, happy, breathless.

“I think,” Remus starts, but he’d really love to resume kissing rather than trying to articulate the whole cosmos that Sirius just cracked open for him. “I think I’ve never let myself think about you because,” he feels his cheeks grow hot because he already knows what Sirius’ reaction to his self-deprecating doubts will be. “You’re way too good for me, I’m poor and a were-”

“An impressive load of bullshit, I’m sure,” Sirius tugs playfully at his hair and kisses him again, and the world gets all dazed and blurry-edged again until Sirius slips his warm hands under Remus’ shirt.

“Do you – is it,” Remus blabbers, laughing with Sirius at his own disconnected speech. 

Turns out Sirius is very, very good at kissing and, unsurprisingly, a quick study at other things, too. Later, they lay in bed together, limbs sticky and sheets rumpled and air smelly and Remus is still catching his breath, cheek pressed against Sirius’ chest. Soothing fingers are caressing his back – and this part is new to him, too – cuddling and nuzzling and basking in the moment.

“Moony,” Sirius starts, “do you know that we can do this every night if you move in with me?”

Remus looks up and the smug, self-satisfied grin warms his heart. “Oh, so this was only an elaborate plan to convince me to move in, wasn’t it?” he jokes, kissing up to Sirius’ neck and jaw and ear.

Sirius flips them over so that he can settle above him, legs twined together, faces so close his long hair tickles Remus’ face. “Well, is it working?” he smiles.

Remus buries his hands on Sirius’ silky hair and kisses him instead of answering until they both get sleepy and Sirius dozes off with an arm thrown over Remus’ chest. On one hand, he doesn’t think it would be wise to move in together when they just started dating, but on the other he wants them to spend as much time together as they can, so they might reach a compromise and spend the weekends together at Sirius’. 

They’re _dating _now, Remus marvels, and it’s less of a shock than it should be: he remembers the previous evening, Moony and Padfoot’s smoky shapes snuggling together, and Sirius’ continuous offers of moving together, all his affectionate gestures. He thinks about how Sirius is always next to his father when the Ministry employees lift the insulating Charms after the moon has set so that families and partners can come inside the basement where the cells are. The pieces all start to fall into place and he blames himself for not noticing how much he’s loved.

He pecks Sirius’ cheek lightly without waking him up, spells out the light, pulls the covers over them and from now on, he swears to himself to show Sirius how much he loves him, too. Together, this being an adult business might turn out better than he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of songs referenced:  
• story title is from Shades by Iggy Pop  
• both chapter titles are from Futile Devices by Sufjan Stevens  
• in Sirius’ flat, the album R & S are listening to is Unknown Pleasures by Joy Divisions  
• in the Lupin’s cottage the wireless plays Should I stay or should I go by The Clash and Don’t go breaking my heart by  
Elton John and Kiki Dee.  
Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aryastark-valarmorghulis)!  



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